


Don't leave me

by MelindaCoulson4



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Heartbreak, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-08 07:02:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14688939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelindaCoulson4/pseuds/MelindaCoulson4
Summary: 5x22 speculation. May waits by Coulson's bedside, hoping he wakes up.





	Don't leave me

**Author's Note:**

> Most of this was written before I saw the sneak peek. But we'll say this takes place before that. Also I'm really scared for the actual episode....

After three agonizing hours of waiting his eyes open. There hadn't been any sign of stirring from him. One moment she'd been staring at the raised blue lines on his arm. The next, she'd looked up just to check on him and his eyelids were open.

Blinking sluggishly, he stares at the ceiling briefly before his head slowly turns towards her.

She isn't prepared for the wave of sorrow that comes with it. Seeing his eyes gradually becoming aware of everything tears her apart inside. The realization is clear: that he's here once again in a hospital bed. Decommissioned for the second time with an oxygen mask strapped over his face.

It isn't right. He shouldn't be here. He's supposed to bring all of the pieces together.

His cracked lips part slightly, but no words come out. A puff of hot breath produces steam on the inside of his breathing mask. He shifts slightly in place, producing a painful groan from deep within his chest.

No words seem adequate for her to say. This is the first time he's seeing her after separating in the spaceship. After he'd grabbed her around the waist, pulled her to him, and covered her mouth with his own. Protecting her from the gunfire with his shield while delivering the best kiss of her life. The years of anticipation all culminating into that one satisfying moment.

If she closes her eyes she can almost remember the sensation of his lips. The pressure of his mouth and the wetness of his tongue brushing against her.

It feels like a lifetime ago now, after waiting by his bedside for so long. Too much had changed. Somehow, he'd become a man on the brink of death, condition rapidly declining. And she'd become frozen in time, wishing and hoping for him to wake up.

Before she can react, his left hand cups the ridge of the plastic breathing mask, tugging at it. He gets it down past his nose.

"No. Leave it on," she tells him. Simmons said they wouldn't know the condition of his lungs so it was best to stay on the safe side.

The mask settles back over his nose seconds later without even a sliver of protest from him. It strikes fear into the deepest part of her bones.

His brows furrow in a mix of pain and confusion as his eyes flicker over her face.

He swallows, gathering his bearings. "Wh-what happened?" He asks no louder than a faint whisper.

"You collapsed. That cut on your arm wouldn't stop bleeding. Simmons said your blood can't clot as it normally would." The words leave her mouth and she barely recognizes her own voice. It's scratchy and frail.

"No......your face," he murmurs, eyes flickering to her neck. They settle there momentarily and up again.

What? Her eyes narrow, trying to understand what he's trying to say. She has no idea what he's talking about.

He stares intently at the left side of her face, almost studying her.

"Bruise," he whispers breathlessly while still focusing on the same spot.

That clarifies things for her. He's talking about the bruising around her eye from her fight with Qovas. It aches a bit when she thinks about it, but other than that she pays it no mind.

It had been there when they'd talked over the video call. But maybe he couldn't see it before because of the grainy quality of the connection. At least she hopes that's it and not that he doesn't remember seeing it.

"Nothing. Qovas. It doesn't matter," she dismisses with a slight shake of her head. Qovas is dead and she won the fight, coming out barely scathed. The few scrapes on her skin will heal relatively quickly.

That's just like Phil. To be so focused on her and not on what is right in front of him. That he's clearly in bad shape. That something isn't right with his body, but all he sees is her minor cuts and bruising.

"I knew you'd do it," he says weakly with a soft crinkling of the skin around his eyes.

The unwavering confidence that he has in her takes her breath away. It leads her to think about the support that she's about to lose. Just one more thing that will happen in her life without him.

He's going to die. It's unavoidable. This sickness will kill him. There won't be an eleventh hour save like they always seem to produce. The serum will be used to eliminate Talbot. The decision is final now. It's a sacrifice of one life in order to save billions. Logically, it's easy to understand, but her heart can't process logic. All her heart knows is Phil. All it wants is Phil. And it won't let him be ripped away.

She's going to lose her best friend. The man that she loves with every part of her being. Every part of her simultaneously calls out to him. Her soul aches for his, knows that he's the one. They just fit together. It's unexplainable and unexpected.

What ifs race across her mind.

What would've happened if she wouldn't have been taken by Aida? If they'd started this thing sooner. If she would've just confessed the truth. That she's loved him for years. That she's always wanted him.

The control she formerly had seems to dissipate into the air within seconds. Her bottom lip quivers and wetness forms in her eyes. The familiar burn that seems to happen much too often lately begins in the base of her nose. All telltale signs that her strong grip on this situation is fading. She feels like a mess, but the last thing she wants is to upset him.

I'm sorry, she means to say, but when she tries her throat locks up. It's the same thing that happens during a nightmare. When she opens her mouth to scream but no words come out as if someone has severed her vocal chords. She considers this a nightmare too.  
  
There's a profound sadness in his eyes. The exhaustion is evident in the charcoal, almost black circles rimming his undereye. For the first time he actually appears older than he really is. The skin on his face sags and has a sickly pale tint to it. It's the face of a man who has been repeatedly beaten down and is losing the fight for his life.

Their gazes lock. In an instant, she can tell that he knows exactly what she's thinking and feeling. He's able to detect the brokenness within her too. Because out of everyone in the world, he still knows her best.

The familiar urge to get up and run creeps into her brain. It's been so engraved in her for most of her life. To hide away and not show any weakness. That's the last thing Phil needs right now. She doesn't want him to feel sorry for her or to experience any guilt. He shouldn't be getting worked up over her.

Movement from the side of his body catches her attention. Her eyes flicker to Phil's slowly rising hand, near his stomach. The one that's injured and bandaged up.

"You need to rest. Keep-," she cuts herself off abruptly, inhaling sharply as the tips of his fingers make contact with her chin.

The first tear breaks free from her eye and rolls down her cheek.

His hand continues moving, fingers spreading to the underside of her ear and the side of her neck.

All of his fingers are cold to the touch, reminding her of the temperature of an icepack. It's like he'd held them in a freezer for an hour. The circulation in his body has decreased. There's obviously a lack of blood flow to his limbs. That's what happens when the body is shutting down and conserving energy. It's harder for his heart to pump the blood everywhere.

The skin to skin touch breaks her resolve. Tears freely pour out of her eyes as if he's turned on the green light towards the end of them.

His thumb wipes at the wetness on the left side of her face.

"That bad?" He asks, sensing the despair within her.

"Yes," she reports through her tears, voice clipped.

Her left hand settles on top of his hand, mindful of the injury at his wrist. Hoping that the heat within her palm will warm him up, she gently applies pressure, holding him steady against her face.

Her abdominal muscles cramp at the thought of delivering the news, that the team has been given an impossible choice and can't save him.

To stop the flow of tears, she forces her eyes shut. All she can do now is feel him. She takes the time to commit this to her memory. So that in dark times she'll be able to remember what this was like. His presence, skin to skin. The comforting feel of him with her.

Her right hand clutches at the metal railing of the stretcher that his body rests on. The metal takes the brunt of her discomfort as she squeezes it as hard as she can, trying to pull herself together.

Still, his palm stays steadily pressed against her cheek.

He deserves to hear the truth from her.

Sucking in a steadying breath, she opens her eyes and begins. "Fitzsimmons put together a cure. The base is the centipede serum which is mixed with a healing component. It would deliver the cure straight to your dying cells. But the only way to take Talbot down is to use the serum with the odium since he would never take it willingly. It would deliver that straight to his cells and eliminate him as a threat. But we only have enough centipede serum for one of those things."

"Me or the world." He pauses then adds, "not much of a choice."

She abruptly breaks the contact between their hands, pulling hers off of his and flinching away from his palm on her face. "Don't.......please," she replies desperately, teetering on the edge of control again. Unable to take this resignation from him again, especially now. She won't make it through. He's breaking her heart.

If this was any other situation she would've left the room already. But in this one, she can't. A new fear plagues her. One where she walks away and finds out that he slipped away while she was gone.

She can't even bring herself to stand up. Instead, she ducks her head, choosing to stare at the top of her thighs.

A second later, his hand falls away from her face and somehow that hurts the most. That he's giving her space when she doesn't really want any.

Physically, she's breaking down. The juncture of her knees is hit with an uncomfortable shakiness. Her insides twitch and knots form in her stomach. The palms of her hands clutch the sides of her jacket as she crosses her arms and curls in on herself, alone and crumbling into pieces.

"We both know what has to be done," he says.

The tears roll down even faster than before. Her efforts in suppressing them have gone to hell.

I know it has to be done, she thinks, but will never be able to say the words aloud. That would make it all too real. Like she was choosing the world over him, which she never would. If it was up to her she'd give him the cure. After everything they've been through, she'd rather live in the future that they'd already experienced. The one with the human race enslaved by the kree. The one where Daisy quaked the world apart.

If that meant that Phil would live, then she'd take it in an instant. And that is the most selfish thought she's ever had. It's the reason why she's here and not with the rest of the team. It's why she told them to keep her out of it. She can't do her job in good conscience because she can't be trusted anymore. Not when every part of her being is screaming to keep him alive.

That's the madness of love.

"Melinda," he whispers, begging her to meet his eyes.

Still, she refuses to move.

"Look at me.....please," he requests gently.

The wetness still uncontrollably pours from her eyes as she blinks and slowly raises her head. She lifts her hands and wipes furiously at her face, trying to clear away the evidence of her distress.

Their eyes lock and she's once again taken aback by how deeply blue his irises are. It was the first thing she ever noticed about him. They captured her attention and apparently never stopped.

He's still so full of life. He's still Phil.

With an unsteady hand, he manages to drag the oxygen mask down past his chin and let's it rest on his chest.

She thinks about protesting, but suddenly she doesn't even mind that he's taken it off. What good would it do to fight about something like that in this moment? There's no energy left in her reserve to even bring it up.

"This is the job. We both knew what we were getting into when we signed up," he begins, slowly.

She sniffles and diverts her attention to the machine that's monitoring his heart. A lecture is the last thing she needs right now. She knows what they signed up for. Loving him so deeply just to lose him was not one of those things.

"I don't regret any of it. It was the best decision I ever made. Because it brought me to you. I've been so lucky to have you with me," he continues.

Her bottom lip quivers slightly as she tries to get a handle on this situation. She knows that this hurts him just as much as it does her, so she let's him speak without interruption.

"I've been brought back once and I am so grateful for that. For the time that we've spent together. I couldn't have done any of it without you. I don't regret anything that's happened. It's lead to this." His fingers brush the top of her hand.

He's telling her the words she's always wanted to hear.

No matter how painful things have gotten between them at times, it's all ultimately brought them closer together. Each argument has lead them to develop an unshakable sense of trust with one another. It's something that is now a conerstone of their relationship. And she's going to lose it all.

Her teeth clench together as air unevenly puffs from her nose. The tightening in her chest hurts, but it's nothing compared to the agony her heart feels. All she wants is to collapse onto the floor and curl up into a ball.

The grip he has on her hand tightens and she feels a tug in his direction, signaling her to come closer.

Rising out of her chair, she bends over him and let's her hand hover over his chest, afraid to touch it.

Naturally, their foreheads come together as she moves down, needing to be close to him. All of her resistance is gone.

There are so many things to say but words are not adequate enough.

Tilting her head, she presses a hesitant kiss to his mouth, then pulls away after a second.

He initiates the second kiss, lightly brushing his lips against hers. It's not sloppy or overwhelmingly passionate. It's just soft and comforting.

She tilts away again, afraid to deny him oxygen.

She slowly backs up and settles into her seat.

A ragged breath slips from his lips. It's clear to her that his strength is fading.

She responds by automatically readjusting the oxygen mask back over his mouth and nose. The green strap attached to the mask appears to be much tighter than need be against his cheeks and ears. She hooks a few fingers between the strap and his face and drags her hand towards his right ear, testing the resistance. Surprisingly it feels okay. Her fingers continue moving up and around his ear, stopping at the sensitive spot behind his ear lobe. Without realizing it she begins lightly scraping her nails against his scalp.

His eyes have grown heavy by now, but she can still feel him watching her every move.

She hopes the action brings him some sort of comfort.  
  
She stands again and maneuvers her other hand between his shoulder blade and the medical bed. This way, she has one hand in his hair and the other underneath him, cradling his body in a gentle hug. Hoping to bring some warmth to his core.

The unexpected palm on her back causes her eyes to slip closed, letting weakness overtake her.

It's not fair. This should be a happy moment. They should be reveling in post-kiss bliss. The way new couples do. Not clutching onto each other for dear life, waiting powerlessly for his health to decline.

It occurs to her then that this is the exact thing that he's been trying to avoid. The reckless decisions that he's made with Hale and Talbot were all attempts to stop this from happening. He wanted to go out fighting in the name of shield. Not like this: in a hospital bed with an oxygen mask over his face and IVs pricking his arm. Certainly not with her breaking down next to him.

It's all perfectly clear. She can now understand his mindset for the past month.

And forgive him for it all.

She holds him a little bit tighter and for just a few minutes she dreams about never letting go.

//end//

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments welcome :)


End file.
